


Jessamy

by lferion



Category: Frederica - Georgette Heyer
Genre: F/M, Growing Up, M/M, Regency, Siblings, Yuletide 2011
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:12:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/pseuds/lferion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jessamy comes home for the summer with questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jessamy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meretricula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meretricula/gifts).



> So very many thanks to [Redacted] and [Redacted]. I truly could not have done this without you.

* * *

  
Coming home to Alver rather than Greynard for the long vacation after the end of Trinity term seemed remarkably natural, Jessamy thought, as he rode up the long formal drive from the gatehouse. Greynard would always hold a place in Jessamy's heart, and of course he would never be a stranger to the house. Now that the lease had run its term, and the affluent Mr Porth had found a property that suited him well enough to purchase, Harry had gratefully shaken the dust of education from his feet. He'd even managed to achieve a degree, despite his rather desultory attentions to his studies, and leave in good order, rather than being permanently sent down. This was a result that Jessamy had been doubtful of, and over which he knew Frederica had harboured some concern. Jessamy's elder brother had therefore taken up residence at Greynard when he was not in London. but Jessamy's eldest sister and youngest brother lived at Alver now, and it had always been Frederica who made whatever house they lived in home.

This was by no means his first time here; after last year's memorable summer with Felix convalescent and Mr Trevor's brother Septimus to tutor them (a true scholar, but not at all stiff, and quite happy to hold lessons in the open pavilion in good weather), not to mention the fact that Frederica was engaged to be married to Cousin Vernon, Jessamy and Felix had spent much of their time as was not occupied with school either at Alver or in London at Alverstoke house. Now it was summer again, and come the autumn, Jessamy would be matriculating at Oxford himself.

Jessamy slowed his horse a little to let the traveling coach with Mr Trevor and Felix come up and advance to the door, to be met by the bustle of servants, and very shortly by Frederica herself. She was looking well, Jessamy thought as he let the groom take his horse's head, and dismounted. He'd only been riding an hour or so this morning, but nevertheless was quite glad to no longer be traveling. Felix was undoubtedly be very happy to be set free from the confines of the coach as well, as no doubt would Mr Trevor.

Frederica was looking well, Jessamy thought, very neat in her simple gown and spencer. He was suddenly, fiercely glad to see her. He had missed her: her levelheaded practicality, her affectionate teasing, her willingness to listen, even when she didn't necessarily entirely understand what he (or Felix — she gave him the very same attention, and his conversation was likely to be full of engines and other unfathomable or obscure mechanisms) was talking about. When she smiled at him with her same twinkle and warmly clasped his hands and kissed his cheek, then Jessamy knew he was indeed home.

  


* * *

  
The next morning, Jessamy did not immediately take horse or rod or fowling-piece out to spend the day in the sunshine (though he had promised himself he would do those very things, merely, not today.) Instead he sought Frederica out after sleeping in (seven of the clock was a luxury after months of being up at five) and taking Lufra for a run out to the folly and back, followed by a leisurely breakfast. One did not bring up private matters at the breakfast table, and besides, he was quite enjoying the quiet, as opposed to the clatter and hum of half-a-hundred boys at table, even if none of them were saying anything other than 'please pass the butter.'

He was looking for Frederica, but unexpectedly found Alverstoke first. Jessamy had thought to talk with his sister before he spoke to his lordship. Feeling conscious and somewhat under-prepared, though not of course frightened, when beckoned into the study Jessamy went. He entered and made a bow before straightening his spine and folding his hands at his back, as was proper for boys in the presence of the Headmaster or Housemaster.

Alverstoke had not had much opportunity yet to take stock of what sort of changes a year at school had effected on Jessamy. (Felix, always more forward in his speech, had occupied much of the conversation the previous evening, before being sent off to bed with affectionate firmness by Frederica. Jessamy had retired soon after, more tired by the journey than he was willing to admit.) Now, rested and his forces recovered by a good sleep, it was easy to see how much the boy had grown. Also apparent was that, if anything, being much in company with other boys had deepened rather than diminishing his reserve. The reports of his housemasters spoke glowingly of his studies, and made good mention of his willingness to assist the younger boys with their books, as well as making it clear that he had done very well in the rowing and cricket. (Alverstoke well remembered the incessant rowing; it was one of the reasons he preferred to fish from bankside or shore.)

"No need for ceremony, boy," Alverstoke said with a smile. "You're not at school now, you know." He waved Jessamy to a seat. "Though if old Moberly is still there, he'd think it 'nothing less than necessary'."

Jessamy had to laugh at the accuracy of the impression, immediately at ease again. He answered readily as Alverstoke asked after Jessamy's friends at school and plans for the summer, assuring his lordship that while he intended to keep up on his reading, he wasn't going to waste all the sunlight on books, and this week at least there were to be no books at all.

As for his friends, Jessamy was not quite sure how to reply. He was not like Harry, finding a bosom/ friend in every new acquaintance, and while the other boys in his year had not been unwelcoming, he had not known and grown up with them since they were all newly out of knickerbockers. Not only that, but he had never lived entirely in male company before either. Jessamy made some kind of answer, and in casting about for names was suddenly and vividly reminded of coming on Cecil and Robert unexpectedly in an out of the way corner, pressed up against each other. And what had happened after, when they had pulled him behind the hedge below the playing field. That had been something of which no modern book had spoken except in terms of severe disapprobation, though the Greeks had considered it a matter of fact part of life. He did think of Robert and Cecil as friends, Jessamy realized, though he hadn't put it to himself that way before.

But what had happened between them, and how he felt about it (he was warm suddenly, just remembering) certainly wasn't something he could ask Frederica about, or even mention. Besides, what would he say? Were there even words for that?

On the other hand, this he _could_ ask Cousin Alverstoke. Cousin Alverstoke had been to school, that very same one, even. Though there was still the problem of words. Jessamy dared a glance at his lordship. He was comfortably relaxed in his chair, attention on Jessamy, with an expression that — oddly — reminded Jessamy of the way Frederica really listened to one, when it was important. Jessamy found himself pouring out the whole story, not with names of course, or much in the way of details, but sufficient to the purpose.

Alverstoke gave his attention to Jessamy's somewhat halting and not entirely coherent tale, memories of Jasper and himself snatching stolen moments in those same hedgerows and corners filling in the places where Jessamy stumbled.

When Jessamy stumbled to a stop, there was no censure in Alverstoke's expression, nor any other of a dozen things Jessamy had been afraid of. "Did I, did I do wrong?"

Oh, child, Alverstoke thought sympathetically, and then corrected himself. Jessamy was really not a child, particularly not in that respect. Not with those feelings, nor those apparent leanings. He was a young man, and in this Alverstoke was not merely the best suited to guide him, he was the only one who could. And be damned to officious and prudish moralizing: he was certainly not going to blight or crush Jessamy's spirits with precepts that he himself did not believe in.

"No, you did not. Nor did your friends. But those things are, as you might expect, not spoken of except quite in private." Alverstoke said firmly, resolving to take Jessamy out riding or fishing before the summer was over. That way he could make sure Jessamy was equipped with the practical knowledge a young man of nearly eighteen would be better having than not when beginning to make his own way in the world, even if that world was the still-sheltered quadrangles of Oxford.

"Now get along with you, rapscallion. Go ride the fidgets out. There's a new mare in the stable I think you'll like. Curry will know which one I mean."

In a rush, before he could lose courage or think better of it, Jessamy asked, "Are you happy? To be married?" The forwardness of the question made him blush fiercely, but Jessamy discovered he needed to know the answer. He bit his lip and waited for Alverstoke's answer with wide eyes.

Alverstoke answered him seriously, taking no offense, "Yes, I am, very happy."

After Jessamy had left with a light step and merely his usual thoughtful expression, Alverstoke leaned back in his chair and stared unseeing out the window overlooking the ornamental water. There was a letter from Damerel in his desk, delivered not long past, giving news of his own marriage, done properly this time, and inviting Alverstoke to call when next in London. Alverstoke had not yet answered, but he rather thought he would now, though he did not pursue his reasoning. And then there was the fact that Jessamy would no doubt look to Frederica for the kind of advice and comfortable assurance she had always given. It would likely be best if Frederica had a few more facts at her disposal before that happened.

  


* * *

  
"Frederica?" Some days later, Jessamy tapped on the door frame and looked before coming into Frederica's sitting-room, this being a conversation he was not interested in having with Cousin Alverstoke present. He supposed that he might have to have it -- or one like it, if not precisely the same, given the other conversations they had had recently -- but Jessamy needed to talk to Frederica. Frederica had never, ever laughed at him, and, he needed to know. She was sitting at her writing-table, pen in hand. The open window beside her gave a tantalizing view of a sweep of lawn and the first of the stately trees of the grove. A breeze brought in the fresh green scents of scythed grass and sun-warmed flowerbeds.

"Yes, Jessamy?" Frederica looked up at him with a smile. "Do come in. I'm just writing to Charis that you and Felix are home, but that can wait."

Over the course of the term he had been at school, Jessamy had grown at least an inch, likely more. He would be quite the tallest in the family when he was done, Frederica thought. There was rather too much of sleeve visible at his wrists, and his trousers had been let out at the hem as far as they would go. Felix's clothes were no doubt in a similar state. It was quite a relief to realize she need not worry about where the money for new clothes was to come, especially since Charis and her skillful needle were no longer at hand. Frederica could simply order them made, or, even better thought, put some business in the way of the Tavish sisters in the village.

But Jessamy was assuredly not here to speak to her about his clothes. Frederica put the busy domestic thoughts from her mind as she had set aside her pen. She watched as he started several times to speak, and failed to find a way into whatever it was he wanted to say. Jessamy was rarely at such a loss, and Frederica could not guess what might account for it.

Now that he had the opportunity, Jessamy could not think of what to say, how to ask what he hardly had words for. Not even after a usefully — embarrassingly — informative conversation with Cousin Alverstoke. Too, he was much more aware than he had been that there were things one simply did not speak to — girls, females, one's sisters — about. Frederica hadn't read all the same books, or seen what a school full of boys could get up to. He would never consider talking to Charis about any of this, fond of her as he was. But Frederica wasn't a girl, exactly, though of course she was female, and a married woman. She was _Frederica_ , and that had nothing to do with her sex. He still couldn't seem to persuade his usually over-quick tongue to say anything.

Finally, Frederica got up and took his hand, saying gently, "I won't bite, you know, or rip up at you, no matter what you might ask, or say."

"I know that," Jessamy said, coloring faintly and letting loose a sigh. "It's just, I want … _need_ … to know, ifyouarehappy." The last he said all in a rush, and went on a little desperately, seeing her puzzled expression. "Married, I mean. To Cousin Alverstoke." He swallowed and fell silent, his glance faltering between Frederica's face and the delicate marquetry pattern of the writing-table.

That was not a question Frederica had expected, though she had no reservations about answering it, especially as it was so obviously important to Jessamy. "I am very happy, Jessamy. Happy in ways I could never have imagined."

She looked searchingly in Jessamy's face, hoping to see if her response had answered what was unsettling and concerning him. His countenance was still clouded, though he met her eyes easily enough. "You need have no worry over me on that head, I assure you," Frederica said with fond firmness. "I hope someday you will find the same kind of happiness."

An errant breeze fluttered the paper on the desk, and Jessamy startled a little, and then both of them laughed. Jessamy looked more himself, Frederica decided, but still a little pale and over-serious. She knew she had not misread his sudden wish to be out-of-doors. She would quite like to be out in the lovely warm day herself. When she suggested they take a walk, Jessamy readily agreed.

  


* * *

  
As they walked, they talked of light subjects: news from Charis and Harry, what things Jessamy had enjoyed this last term, the excellencies of Alverstoke's new chestnut mare that Jessamy had ridden yesterday and looked forward to riding again tomorrow, and other such matters. Frederica listened, pleased to see Jessamy quickly regain his usual animation and at the same time aware that he was, as Vernon had said, no longer a boy, but was becoming a young man. His intelligence had always been superior, and now the rest of him was growing into a form that matched it. She was, of course, a partisan observer, but nevertheless she was proud of him.

They wended their way down the pleached avenue and around the ornamental water. Frederica thought of what Vernon had given her to understand of the path onto which Jessamy's natural interests and inclinations were likely to lead him.

Alverstoke had obliquely introduced the subject of masculine friendship at dinner one evening, telling a story of some friends of his, in a light but not careless way, his affection for them clear to Frederica's discerning ears. Not speaking judgmentally or making any kind of moral point, just recounting a comfortable tale of a fellow and his bosom friend, neither inclined to the petticoat company, preferring the companionship of each other. Though of course they are socially adept, conversable, dance well, happy to take a girl through a turn around the ballroom, but no-one expected anything of it other than a pleasant dance and conversation. Neither of them is on the catch for a wife, and as younger sons, no need for them to be. Living, as the saying went, in each other's pockets and all the happier for it.

Jessamy had looked much struck by the story, asking questions and attending closely. He had left the table immersed in thought, a state Frederica well recognized.

Later that evening in the privacy of their apartments, Vernon had told her rather more, so she was not surprised to note the warmth with which Jessamy spoke of his friends Cecil and Robert. Nor was she particularly dismayed at the idea that Jessamy would likely never marry, as she had long understood that to be the case. Still, it was comforting to know that he would not be confined to a loveless or lonely existence, however unconventional or necessarily discreet his private life might be. Men had much more freedom in those sorts of things.

Mostly though, Frederica wanted to see him happy, just as Jessamy was concerned for her own contentment.

When their feet had taken them the long way around to the pavilion, they were both grateful for the shade. Frederica sat down on one of the benches with a little sigh. Jessamy had worked his way back around to the question that was at the root of his distress and the look of strain made the bones of his face stand out. His handkerchief had been worried into a knot, and his thin fingers picked at the twists, turning the crumpled linen over and over. Frederica knew he wasn't even aware of it in his hands.

She patted the seat beside her on the bench. "Jessamy, love, what is it? You know you can tell me anything, anything at all. Or ask me, though there are things I'm not likely to tell you, you know. Though I can't imagine you asking _that_ kind of a thing."

Jessamy flushed. He would never think of asking Frederica some of what he _had_ asked Alverstoke. But the jolt of awareness that went through him shook loose a query he could ask, however nonsensical it might seem. He wasn't even certain why the question was important to him, just that it was.

"When did you _know_? How did you know? That Cousin Alverstoke was the right one, that you wanted to be with him, marry him?" Jessamy wasn't looking at Frederica, though he was very aware of her. As he had suddenly become _aware_ of people. Aware that people had bodies as well as minds; bodies that were not amenable to reason, that wanted what they wanted, unreasonably. Inconveniently. Wanted things that some of his books praised as the highest form of friendship and affection, and others condemned as unspeakable, unconscionable, utterly depraved and despicable. His mind veered off that path, knowing it lead nowhere useful. And Cousin Alverstoke had not disapproved. Had quite bluntly assured him that he had done nothing amiss. But it was like horses, the right one, a good one, _fit_ , responded to your hand on the bridle, the pressure of your knees, the way you sat in the saddle. It wasn't as if the horse chose to be a racer or a hack or a carriage-horse. People did that for horses. At which point the analogy broke down entirely. He hadn't been paying attention, and now he didn't know if Frederica had even answered his question.

Jessamy discovered himself apparently trying to memorize the whorls in the carved stone of the bench, and made himself look over at Frederica instead. Her expression was sympathetic, open, enquiring even, but there was no shadow in her eyes as she looked at him, even though the slight drawing in of her brows and the line of her mouth said she was concerned.

Now it was Frederica's turn to search for words. After a moment she fell back on what it was that Vernon had said to her about his own feelings on that remarkably chaotic day. "I knew when I realized that I did not want to live without him, though I cannot say when in time or what particular event planted the seed that grew into that feeling and that understanding." With relief she saw that what she was saying was reaching him, but it still didn't get to the heart of the matter, somehow. Something was still making him … afraid? Yes, it was fear shadowing his eyes, just as it had when Felix was so ill. A fear that was connected with her.

"Please, Jessamy, sit. You are looming. You are tall enough now to loom." Frederica teased gently.

Jessamy sat. Unaccountably he felt all arms and legs, like a gawky and overgrown schoolboy, even though he was not truly a schoolboy any longer. But, that was part of it, this feelings-and-bodies thing that fit so poorly with the neat exactitude of geometry or the stately periods of Homer and Hesiod. Books were tidy, and moral precepts were tidy, but actual life (as Alverstoke had indeed told him, on that mortifying morning when Jessamy had applied to him for rescue in the matter of the Pedestrian Curricle) was considerably more inexact, uncertain and untidy. If indeed he were to study to become a parson, he needed to understand so very much more than he did now.

Finally, Jessamy took refuge in formality, and asked, in a small and hesitant voice, "If, if I were to tell you that I fear I'm much more likely to form an attachment, not to an eligible young lady, but to a, a, another gentleman, would that give you a disgust of me?"

Was that what he was afraid of? Immediately, Frederica wrapped her arms around him where he sat, hunched and miserable, offering comfort as if he were seven and not seventeen. "No! No, Jessamy, I could never stop loving you. Never. It doesn't matter to me in the least who you love, as long as you _do_ love." She gave him a shake before pulling him close again. "Don't you ever doubt that."

Jessamy nodded against her shoulder, speechless, feeling quite as wrung as his handkerchief.

After a moment Frederica set him upright, and briskly tidied him. "Now, I'm going to say something to you, and I want you to listen."

He nodded again, considerably heartened by Frederica's instant and emphatic statement.

"You are young yet, still finding yourself, as I know Alverstoke has told you. There is no need at all to rush anything. If these last two years have taught me anything, it is that love comes when and where it will." She reached up to brush his cheek with affectionate fingers. "And if I know you, and I do, you will be far too busy come the beginning of term to be worrying over anything but your studies and your cricket. Yes, Alverstoke did tell me you were become a champion wicket-keeper and a fine batsman. And that is what you should be thinking of, once up at Oxford. But now, here, this summer, there is nothing at all to be concerning yourself over." Frederica smiled and stood up, a cheerful sparkle in her eyes as she concluded with a teasing note, "Or at least, nothing of more moment than whether you are going to ride the grey or the chestnut!"

Jessamy stood and smiled too, the light back in his face and the tightness lifted from his shoulders. "Or whether I shall take my rod out and go fishing instead," he replied with a chuckle as they left the pavilion together.

  


* * *

  
Jessamy and Frederica made their way back to the house, this time in a comfortable and thoughtful silence. As they came in sight of the outbuildings, Jessamy saw Alverstoke approaching, obviously intending to walk back with them. When Frederica caught sight of Alverstoke, she smiled in a way that made Jessamy understand everything she had said about how she knew she was in love. Cousin Alverstoke's answering expression made it perfectly clear that that love was returned.

And while their smiles were for each other, they did not exclude him. Jessamy felt as if something had shifted into place that had been a little out, and knew himself to be indeed home, where he had everything he might need to grow into himself, try his wings, and learn to fly under the firm and loving guiding hands of his sister and brother in truth as well as law.

  


* * *


End file.
